 | Cuckoo songs |  |
33
The Christmas Babe
All in the night when sleeping
I lay in slumber's chain,
The Christmas Babe came weeping
Outside my window-pane.
The Christmas Child whom faithless
Men turn from their hearthstone—
My dream was dumb and breathless,
The Christmas Babe made moan.
I lay in slumber's chain,
The Christmas Babe came weeping
Outside my window-pane.
The Christmas Child whom faithless
Men turn from their hearthstone—
My dream was dumb and breathless,
The Christmas Babe made moan.
The small hands beat impatient
Upon my close-locked door.
The small hands they have fashioned
The world, the stars, and more.
He heard no sound of coming,
His cries broke wild and keen,
The Christmas Babe went roaming
For one to take Him in.
Upon my close-locked door.
The small hands they have fashioned
The world, the stars, and more.
He heard no sound of coming,
His cries broke wild and keen,
34
For one to take Him in.
A burning bush of splendour
Enfolds the Christmas Child,
Like some meek bird and tender
In gold thorns undefiled.
I listen long to hear Him
Come crying at my door.
Voices of night I fear them,
And He comes by no more.
Enfolds the Christmas Child,
Like some meek bird and tender
In gold thorns undefiled.
I listen long to hear Him
Come crying at my door.
Voices of night I fear them,
And He comes by no more.
| Cuckoo songs | |